Some Crazy Ideas

I sure hope this gets through the system okay.

Well, anyway. These are some crazy thoughts I've run through my head.

Fisrt, I wanted to join the DeVry Linux Users Club, but from what I could gather, they had disbanded, maybe becasue nobody had the time? I know I'm being given a steep learning curve, especially since even though the DeVry classes are easy so far, my Grandparents bombard me with "How the Real World Works" lessons, and a giant extended tutorial on manners. I know I need them, but they really shouldn't overload me like that. I've got enough confusion and stress going on up there without added burdens. They make it sound like I'm going to starve and die if I don't learn all of this stuff ASAP, and I would rather it be spread over a longer stretch of time. The clincher is that my grandparents make it a "take it or leave it" deal, and it shouldn't be, but they make it so. My grandfather loves me dearly, but he has this attitude that comes off as, "Oh, a kid! Let's put him in the Navy, they'll make a man out of him quicker than greased lightning!" When denied that option, he resorts to making the home his own private boot camp. I know he loves me, but he has a funny way of expressing it. I'm not the super-macho-coconuts-in-the-pants type, and I don't easily get testosterone poisoning, which should grant me some evolutionary points, but it seems there is not a general consensus on the value of a more straight-headed guy, one that isn't flaming gay, but is nevertheless more open-minded, more sympathetic, more appreciative, more caring, more emotionally balanced.

Before my Prom, I had the attitude of, "Oh, the Prom. So?" But after I found a willing Sophomore (yeah, I know, not the most "popular" guy in town), I went ahead and took her to it. It was as I expected it to be. Boring, frilly, big deal to the Big Headed Bozos (The children who made it to the Ballots for Class King and Queen, and various other laughs), and later, not a lot of activity. I did dance with my date a little, but as she told me, I could not dance, which was obvious to the both of us, She found a guy she knew from band, and danced with him a little. I met quite a few of her friends, some were band members, some I couldn't remember, maybe grew up together. Whatever.

Then the fun began. We went to the After Prom Party! I played laser tag maybe 16-20 times, sometimes annoying everybody with my Sarge routine. I thought it was funny, but they didn't take the game that seriously, anyway. I, of course, got #1 ranking about three times, I preserved those record slips until I moved to Dallas, where I promptly lost them in the moving mess. I don't think I still have them. If I do, it would be somewhere in that huge pile of papers in a particular box. I never got to go bowling with my date, however, but I sure did eat with her, talk with her, and spent some time with her. I also remember giving some sympathy to another girl whose date had canceled at the last minute. She had streaks all down her face, so I invited her to spend time with us, my date and I, and since my date didn't have nearly the amount of zest for the laser tag setup as I did, I imagine she spent some time playing games in the arcade, while I was battling in the laser tag arena.

I really miss my brother. His name is Richard Arthur Maurin. I won't go blabbing too much about him, in case I piss off Child Protective Services, and get their evil lawyers on my case. All I'm going to say is, I miss him big-time, and that I'm sorry that I hurt him, and that I would love to make it up to him somehow. I don't care if that means he ties me up, takes an ice pick, and stabs my arms and legs with it over and over. Yes, it would hurt like hell, but if it made him feel better, I'd submit to him, and let him do some inflicting. That's not to say I would take sadistic crap during all of the time I'm in his presence, I hope he doesn't develop something serious like that over this family crap, even though it's highly likely that he has been damaged severely by all of this crap.

Now that I'm started, I can't believe how evil the so called "guy," (more like an "it") my genetic father was, and how fatherly he wasn't. I can't imagine how a mide that crippled would move a single muscle! That guy is either so freaking sick, he shouldn't be alive, or just plain devil-spawn given flesh. Yes, I know his parents had serious Bipolar Disorder, and went Manic every now and then, but that doesn't excuse the thing (my not-father). That thing has serious issues. Next!

I always wondered why CPS keeps telling me that my brother, Richard is real pissed off at me for "telling the family secret." I don't get it. David was so freaking stupid, the authorities would have noticed his crotch-tag games eventually. I don't know why he'd rather be slapped around, kicked, stomped on (like my baby sister), thrown around against the walls, or sexually molested, instead of separated for a while by some incredibly stupid social workers. At least the inept social workers didn't molest me. I can't say that about my not-father. I was thrashed a bit, but that was, pretty much, the extent of it. That doesn't mean I like getting kicked around, but I'd rather be physically abused than sexually, any day.

Richard Arthur Maurin: If you ever read this, just know this. I'm sincerely sorry for all of that crap I put you through, I'm sorry I participated in that silly sibling rivalry gig, I'm sorry I hit you. I'm sorry for each time, whether I thought you deserved it, whethere you really did or not, You don't deserve to get picked on just because there's enough mother to go around. I really am. I'm sorry I was such a jerk, I'm sorry I didn't treat you like a brother when I had the chance. I'm so sorry that I left you with the memories of the attention-seeking lies I left at Meadow Pines RTC. I can't prove it, but I never, ever looked at you like that. Ever. I loved you ONLY as a brother would his little brother. I can prove that I care when you move in over to our apartment. By that time we should have a really big apartment, and I'll have a job to help pay for it. Every time you need Mom's attention, you can have it. I'll wait patiently until your done, and then I'll say what I have to say, how's that?

I really do love you, Richard. I mean it.

Here are the plans so far: I'm 18, so that means you should be about 16, now. Huh. I bet you're bigger than me! If you wanted to, you could probably beat me up, now! Anyway, if you read this, please make a note of it here on Blogspot. Thanks.